dig.dig at the gristle between the meat andthe stone the bone the branch of the family treethat digs heels intohistory and the flesh the meat the promise ofaction of animation of agilitydig at the stuff that links the twothe connective tissue that fascist the fasciathat tend/ons to bindhistorygets stuck into habits and habits and habits and habitsrestrict inform allowthe limbs the bones to be enfleshed the flesh to bestony the trunk to branch out and todig for secrets and roots and underground gatherings

where are you on this sloppy topography. which organ holds lovenot the heart it is theunseen the clinging the connecting the allowingif my heartif my musclemoves without it nothing happensthe stone bones cannot think of action withoutitthe idea manifests in this stuffthis shiftwhich bindsfor whichi dig

When they ask you ten years or more later how you achieved what you did, try not to lie. Admit that you even if you had a plan nothing went to plan. Admit that you wanted what you wanted and couldn't always say why. Admit that logic is very useful for many things but not for the arc of a life story. Admit it and give permission to everyone else to be confused and happy, lost and righteous, ambling unfocused ambiguous playful childlike and full complete respected successful citizens of our shared humanity.

About me.

﻿I am fascinated by the ways in which we do and don't embody our selves. I do my own kind of research, and coach people to live their truest lives. I practice healing and communication arts, and I write about all these things. I am a nomad, these days living and travelling on my boat in the U.K.

My studies have focused on whether feminism works in practice, what a healthy body does, awkwardness as a sociological event, and the myriad means for communication and their effectiveness in interpersonal and socio-political contexts.